Deaf and Simplistic
Towards the horizon I've been
pointing my sails and praying on winds for guidence,
I know I might look adviceless,
I forgot about writing
and lost my eyelids to lightlessness again.
Stuck in the subtle complexities
of crumbling rubble and wreckage debris
that comfortably huddle themselves next to me.
A blanket that may seem mangy,
yet still its love humbles me strangely.
These ne'er do well limericks killed off the rhythm,
and if you can't hold a rhyme,
where's the beauty in living?
And I know some lines fall deaf and simplistic,
that being said, it's those that I sink or I swim with.
I tend to hit my roll
a moment past when my brain hits the throws,
and searches for a cliff to flip over,
bright and white just like Dover.
It's either that or a plain straight drop to the shoreline,
but I'm a man who holds rhymes, I won't suffer a bored mind.